


The Four Branches

by seekeronthepath



Series: The Mabinogi [1]
Category: Celtic Mythology
Genre: F/M, Fairy Tale Retellings, Magic, Strong Female Characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-09 03:21:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3234395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekeronthepath/pseuds/seekeronthepath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Campfire retellings of the Four Branches of the Mabinogi - Welsh fairy-tales full of magic, oaths, and transformations.</p>
<p>The Four Branches of the Mabinogi belong to an oral storytelling culture, and it shows. I decided I would like to work up my own versions of the tales that I _could_ tell if I wanted to - in approximately five minute segments. As I solidify them, I'm posting the scripts here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Four Branches

Pwyll Pendefic Dyfed was lord over the seven cantrefs of Dyfed, which are like counties, but in Wales. His name meant 'sense', but he was not always a sensible man, so when he heard tell of a hill that had the special property that anyone who sat upon it was sure to either see a wonder or go mad, he declared that he would love to see a wonder, and betook himself and his court to the hill.

 

This is what they saw:

A beautiful lady, coming from nowhere, riding slowly by at a little distance from the hill. Pwyll sent messengers after her, on foot and on horseback, but no matter how fast they went, they could not catch up to her, though she never sped her pace. Finally, Pwyll himself rode after her, on the fastest horse of the court, and he rode until his horse was nearly foundering, but not an inch closer did he get, until at last he cried out in desperation, "Lady, for the sake of he who you love best, stop!"

And stop she did.

"It were better for your horse if you had asked earlier," she said, "for it is you that I love best, in all the world, and I am engaged to a man that I loathe, and if you are willing, I would far rather marry you."

Now what sort of man says no to a proposal like that, from a beautiful woman...coming from nowhere, on a horse that cannot be caught unless she wishes it, declaring an unwanted betrothal, and saying she is in love with him though they have never met before? Perhaps a sensible man says no, to a proposal like that. But Pwyll said yes.

 

In those days in Wales, a wedding was not a church ceremony, but a feast and a wedding night, and so a year from that day, see Pwyll and Rhiannon (for that was her name) presiding over as fine a feast as had ever been seen in Dyfed. And see a stranger arriving, and approaching the high table, and saying to Pwyll, "Lord, I beg a boon of thee on thy wedding day."

And Pwyll, overflowing with happiness, said "Anything," which everyone knows is a terrible thing to promise.

"I have never in my life met such a fool as you," said Rhiannon, "for that is Gwawl, to whom I was engaged!"

And, "I ask for the hand of Rhiannon," said Gwawl.

And they were not married yet, so Pwyll _could_ give it. So he _must_ give it. And so, heavy hearted and sad, he did give it.

Well, Pwyll had lost Rhiannon. But it was she who had won _him_ in the first place, and she was determined to win him back. Rhiannon was a clever woman, and wise, and with no small mastery of magic, so she planned a plan, and told it to Pwyll, and he agreed, and this is what happened next:

 

A year later, see another wedding feast, like before, but with Gwawl by Rhiannon's side. And see another stranger arriving, no nobleman this, but a shabby beggar. And see the beggar approaching the high table, and saying to Gwawl, "Lord, I beg a boon of thee on thy wedding day."

And Gwawl, not one to be caught by his own tricks, said "What is it that you want?"

"Merely to have this bag filled with food, Lord," said Pwyll (for Pwyll the beggar was), and Gwawl agreed.

But plate after plate of food went into the bag, and still it was no fuller than before, until at last Gwawl cried out in frustration, "How may this bag be filled?"

"It is a magic bag, Lord," said Pwyll, (which it was, for Rhiannon had made it), "and may only be filled if a great nobleman treads down upon what is inside it and declares it to be so."

"Surely _you_ are such a one," said Rhiannon to Gwawl, and, well, he was something of a vain man, and not immune to flattery, so he agreed to try.

But no sooner did he step into the bag, no sooner did he begin to say, "This bag is - " than Pwyll caught up the sides of the bag about him, and tied it shut with Gwawl inside, and called to his men who were waiting outside the hall, and his men overcame Gwawl's warriors, and kicked the bag about until Gwawl cried out for mercy.

And as the price of that mercy, Pwyll demanded the hand of Rhiannon, and (on her advice) Gwawl's promise that no revenge would be taken for the insult he had received that night. And he got that. And a year later there was a third and final wedding, and if Pwyll and Rhiannon did not live happily ever after, they did live lovingly, and thanks to Rhiannon, even sensibly.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the more or less verbatim script of an oral retelling of this story that I pulled together for a concert recently. As such, it is rather compressed - less than half the length of the first time I told it - and skims over some of the things I could have included. There are a number of features of oral storytelling that show up here: repetition, formulaic phrases, a focus on action and away from introspection, and an awful lot of conjunctions. In fact, most of the peculiarities of this story make sense if you read it aloud - at least, I think so.
> 
> I wrote this out so that I wouldn't forget it, but I probably will add more storytelling scripts later. It was fun. I may even record them, so you can hear what it sounds like when I perform. It depends on the feedback I get.


End file.
